Thirteen
The barrage from the Dauntless and Pearl had taken its toll, and the Magdalena surrendered perforce. Both masts were shot through, and she was already riding low in the water.
Jack turned his attention to the smaller ships. He had seen Gallardo board the Cornwall, and knew it was his last and best opportunity to find out how his plan for revenge had gone wrong. "Mr. Gibbs, run out the sweeps. Full ahead, all guns to ready!" Gibbs followed his captain's thought, and the Pearl lurched forward as Jack stood on the quarterdeck, his hair whipping around him, eyes fierce.
Gallardo already had the Cornwall under sail and moving away, her former crew either slain or chucked unceremoniously into the water. "The opportune moment," Jack muttered, as the prow of the Pearl rammed the smaller Cornwall with all the speed she could gather. A hideous crunching splintering sound; the screams of men and the yells of the Pearl's crew; ten feet off the prow of the smaller ship simply crumbled and fell to the water's surface.
Jack's men raked the deck with all the gunfire they could muster, knocking down nearly a dozen of the Spaniards before Jack himself led them in boarding. Gallardo met him with sword drawn.
Jack had his blade out in an instant. "I think your luck's run out, mate. Why don't we have a bit of a chat, eh?" He circled Gallardo as chaos roiled about them.
"Vete al carajo, English pig! I don't take commands from you," the Spaniard cried, then lunged, obviously hoping the surprise attack would catch Jack off guard. Jack merely sidestepped, and gave the other man a stinging slap with the side of his blade as he rushed past.
"Awfully confident, aren't you? Surely you realize you'll never get home in this ship," he added, smiling pleasantly and tilting his head toward the ruined prow.
Gallardo looked, then snarled and lunged again, this time using his blade more skillfully. Jack had to parry twice before he was able to leap out of the man's reach. The two captains slashed, feinted, and parried as if they were the only men on deck, Gallardo refusing to see that his crew had been subdued by Jack's more numerous men.
Finally Jack drew blood – a slash down the side of the Spaniard's linen shirtsleeve. "Come on, man! Is Robert O'Shea such a fine master that you're willing to die for him?" he shouted in frustration.
Jack's words finally brought home to Gallardo the truth of his situation. He dropped his sword, and sat down heavily, exhausted. "O'Shea is a dead man, if I have anything to do with it," he growled. His English was fairly good.
Jack stood above him, blade at the ready, as his crew shoved the survivors of Gallardo's men into the Cornwall's hold. "I don't much care for the bastard, either," he replied, his lip curling beneath his mustache. "In fact, I've been tryin' to kill him for near twenty years. I thought I had him this time; but it looks like he's double-crossed us both."
"Ah, he's hated me for years. He knows I am a better leader than he can ever be." Gallardo took off his hat and wiped his face. "I thought something was funny when he sent me here. All he said was that one of his agents was meeting us here in an English ship. We have a number of those in the Navy who let us, eh, carry on business." He grinned dryly as he wrapped a rag around his arm. "So I sailed right into the bay like an innocent sheep to the wolves."
Jack didn't let down his guard for a moment. "He never told you I was to meet him here personally? That's very interesting." He would keep to himself the fact that O'Shea's sister was on board the Pearl. "So instead of coming himself, he sends you into a trap; figuring that between you, me and the Navy, most of us would end up dead or captured. I almost admire his cunning," he added.
Gallardo's eyes narrowed, sizing up Jack with the shrewdness born of dealing with rough men in dangerous places. "Suppose we make a deal, English? I can sail back to home port, and then I'll have a chance to kill O'Shea. And you and I will both be happy."
Jack looked skeptical. "They'll never let you dock."
"They will have to, or else he'll be admitting that he sent me into a trap." Gallardo smirked. "I'll get a hero's welcome, and then I'll cut his lying throat. I've been meaning to get around to it, anyway."
He'd do it without a second thought, Jack realized. Of course, he'd spent far more time with O'Shea than Jack had, and probably had that much more reason to hate his guts. "And what's in this for me, eh? The satisfaction of letting someone else do what I intended?"
"Oye, amigo. It's the results that matter, verdad? But if I am successful, I will be your sworn compadre for life, on my honor." Gallardo added the last with a grin that said they both knew how much that honor was worth.
Jack burst out laughing. "Aye, well, y'never know when you're going to need a mate, eh? And I've got nothing to lose. If you fail, I'll try again. Do we have an accord?" He held out one battle-stained hand.
"Agreed." Gallardo shook it heartily. "Eh – I'll need my ship back."
Jack grew thoughtful. "Your flagship's shot below the waterline, I don't think she can be saved." In truth, even a landsman would have noticed how low in the water the Magdalena was riding. "But your sloop's still seaworthy, I expect. There's just the little matter of dealing with the Navy. I think it's time I paid a visit to my friend Norrington." He indicated the Dauntless with a tilt of his head.
Gallardo was visibly startled. "You know the Navy captain? But you are – I thought you merely saw an opportunity to take a prize."
"There's lots you don't know about me, mate. If you survive your next meeting with Sir Robert, perhaps we'll have the opportunity to sit and have a pint or two." Jack's jesting tone changed as he shouted, "Mr. Gibbs, signal the Dauntless that the captain of the Black Pearl intends to come aboard."
The smoke of battle had nearly cleared when the Dauntless' boatswain announced, "Captain Jack Sparrow!" as Jack sauntered aboard. He was met by Norrington, who stood rigidly with a stony expression.
"Commodore! So nice to see you again, and under much improved circumstances, from my standpoint at least. I've got a bit of business to discuss with you." He smiled cheerfully.
"Indeed, Captain Sparrow, I am astonished that you have the unmitigated gall to come aboard my ship. I doubt that we can have anything to discuss."
Jack grinned and threw his arm around Norrington's shoulders in a familiar way as they walked the deck. "Now, now, let's not let old business get in the way of what we want to accomplish. A little bird tells me that you Navy types have been repeatedly played the fool by coastal raiders. I think I know who's behind it, and on yonder vessel," he indicated the Toro, "sits the man who can punish the guilty party."
"Indeed? And why should I take the word of a pirate?" Norrington's eyes narrowed. He had urgent tasks – he needed to make sure Sarah was safe, for God's sake, and here this sea rover was frittering valuable time away.
"Ah, ah! Privateer, mate, all right and proper. The King likes me, he does." Jack smiled happily. "If you really want the raids to stop, and who doesn't, why then all you need do is allow that ship to return to its home port. I have it on the best authority that once it does, the man behind all this will be meeting his Maker a great deal sooner than he planned."
Norrington sighed. He was tired, and worried. It was a risk taking Jack's word and he knew it; but he just didn't have the energy to care. "Captain Sparrow, you're a clever man. If you think letting that ship go will accomplish his Majesty's aims of keeping his lands safe, then by all means, I shall authorize her release." Who knew, maybe something could be salvaged from this fiasco.
"Well done, Commodore!" Jack beamed. "I'll get things underway. Feel free to send a few shots after her, for appearance's sake; long as they miss, aye?" And with that he was off, leaving Norrington with the feeling that time and space and all things rational had been summarily swept aside by the strange luck that surrounded Jack Sparrow.
Fourteen
"But Captain Sparrow, I can't just sail the seas with you forever. I've got a life to get back to!" Caitlyn was coldly furious, racing after Jack as he ordered his crew to get underway.
Jack deftly hauled in the foretopsail and tied it off. "And why not, Miss O'Shea? It's not as if you had such a carefree existence under your brother's protection. And you seem to be quite good at what we do, like you were born to it." He gave her a cocky grin. "Handled that swivel gun like a professional."
"I ought to put a bullet in you, you scallywag! After all you've put me through, after I fought on your side – why can't you listen to reason?" Her voice rose in frustration.
Jack stopped in his tracks and faced her. "You're still valuable to me, love. I might very well still need you for leverage, if yon Captain Gallardo doesn't manage to slit your brother's throat as promised."
"You bloody pirate!" she shouted, then broke and ran for the rail. Before Jack could take more than a single step, she dived over the side. Jack and Gibbs watched as she surfaced, and then stroked evenly through the wavelets for shore.
Jack turned back to see his entire crew staring at him. "Every man jack to his stations!" he growled fiercely. "Mr. Gibbs, make for Tortuga. We'll need repairs and supplies before we sail again."
"But Captain, what about Miss O'Shea? Y'can't just leave her there!" Gibbs protested. Women on board ships were one thing; women ashore were quite another. You couldn't just let a woman fend for herself like that.
"Ah, but I can. She's cut her own line, Mr. Gibbs, and now she must make do with it. Let the Navy save her if they've a mind to do so." Gibbs wisely held his noise; no telling what the captain might take a notion to do, considering how his plans had all gone south.
-
The sailor had pulled the rowboat up out of the surf, and Sarah worked to position Gillette more comfortably, leaning his head and shoulders against her own skirts to keep the breeze off him. He groaned and his eyes came halfway open. She thanked God that the morning was turning to a fair day.
Two rowboats put off from the Dauntless and approached the shore. Fighting against exhaustion, Sarah squinted into the sun's glare; she was almost certain her brother was in the prow of one of them. She held her shawl to Gillette's chest wound. It did virtually no good, a huge stain spreading across it in minutes, but she didn't know what else to do.
She looked up as Norrington and his men raced across the sands towards them. "He took a direct blast, to protect me," she said quietly.
Norrington knelt by the mortally wounded captain. Gillette tried to speak, but only coughed; Norrington shook his head. "Keep quiet, man. The surgeon is on his way. We'll have you shipshape in no time." He knew it was a lie when he said it.
Gillette disobeyed that order, turning his head to look at Sarah. "Miss Norrington, on my honor," he coughed again. "I never intended to hurt you."
"Captain, you must be silent now," Sarah insisted; but he'd gone unconscious again.
The surgeon came puffing across the sands, and quickly checked Gillette's pulse. "Hmm, not good. I can make an attempt, sir," he added, turning to Norrington, "but judging by the blood, I'll mainly cause him more pain, and it won't do a bit of good." They talked in low voices, Norrington becoming more agitated until finally he grabbed the surgeon's jacket-front and shouted, "You will fix him right NOW!"
Sarah spoke up then. "Oh for heaven's sake, do hold your noise." She tilted her head to Gillette's still form; he had ceased to breathe. The surgeon checked the pulse again, and shook his head.
Norrington looked at his sister with new respect, as he and his men removed their hats. She was pale, but calm. She seemed to have gone from girl to woman in the space of a day.
"James, what I told you about Gillette was all true," she said softly.
He was shocked right down to his bones. He tried unsuccessfully to speak; then his mouth set in a determined line. One good action, he suddenly felt, was enough to redeem a man of any number of evil deeds. "He will of course be buried with full honors, as is fitting for a hero of the King's Navy."
Sarah felt a wave of pride at the words; watching her brother's face, she saw deep regret for what might have been, and perhaps a new understanding of human frailty.
Norrington shuddered slightly. His poor sister, with a man's lifeblood on her skirts and his cold form in her lap! "Let me take him, Sarah." He bent down to lift the still form.
"No, James, let him be. It's the least I can do." He nodded silently.
"Commodore, someone else has come ashore!" One of his men pointed east along the shoreline, where a figure could be seen walking unsteadily across the sand.
"Mr. Morris, take two men and go bring that person to us. Under duress, if need be." Morris nodded and took off at a jog. The figure hesitated, took a few more steps, then sank to its knees.
Norrington rubbed his eyes tiredly as the heat increased. "Sarah, Gillette has no family that I know of here in the Indies. We will have to see to it that he receives due respect and a proper burial. Can you manage it?"
"Of course, James," she answered quietly, then looked up and gave a surprised gasp.
Norrington turned as Morris arrived with his captive. "Dear God in heaven, the whole world's gone mad. Am I to understand, Mr. Morris, that this, er, lady was on one of the combatant ships?"
"So it would seem, sir. She don't talk much."
Caitlyn O'Shea was held upright largely by the strength of the two sturdy sailors on either side of her, gripping her arms. Her hair had sprung out in wild auburn curls that barely reached her shoulders, and her ragged sailor's garb was stiff with drying sea-water.
Norrington thought she looked like a wild sea-nymph, captured perhaps by some magic spell and brought to shore to dwell with mortals. He could only imagine how she felt about being manhandled in such a way. "You may release her."
She finally spoke, her voice faint. "I need water, please." She licked her dry lips. "I'm so tired." With that, she dropped like a stone between the two distracted sailors, and fell flat on her face in the sand.
Norrington sighed, and knelt to pick her up, brushing the sand from her face; she was unconscious. "The lady will return to the Dauntless in my boat. Mr. Morris, you will escort Miss Norrington and Captain Gillette. And let us all mind our tongues until I can determine the full truth behind these things."
They returned to the ship in silence.